


inappropriate responses

by venndaai



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Bad Parenting, Closeted Character, Emotional Infidelity, Falling In Love, M/M, Tom Mason Is A Hot Gay Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom loved his partner. Tom loved his children. Tom enjoyed spending time with them.</p><p>It was just that lately, he seemed to enjoy spending time with Cochise more.</p><p>this is season three as experienced by that notorious hot gay xenophile mess, President Tom Mason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One of the things Tom didn't like to remember was how happy he'd been, the day of first contact. Happy might not even be the right word. Ecstatic didn't quite capture it either. It was very stupid, in retrospect. He knew better than most what the inevitable result was when two cultures at different military levels encountered each other. But he'd wanted so badly to believe that this would be different. He'd told the boys that this was a new chapter in human history.

He hadn't considered that it might turn out to be the last.

Fighting the Espheni, killing them- he was angry at them, he was, he hated them so much, they'd murdered his wife and tortured his son, destroyed his world, he enjoyed killing them- but nauseatingly mixed up with the red hot hatred was the rush of fascination. All that knowledge had crossed the gulf of space and was so close now, and yet totally out of his reach.

And maybe that was part of why he'd gone up to the Espheni ship. He'd tried to cloak it in sacrificial paternal love, but maybe deep down... he'd just wanted to see. To _know_.

When the first Volm rocket landed, he could feel the fear of his people around him, but he couldn't grasp it for himself. He knew he'd been riding on the high of a power trip, gaining control of Charleston, starting to formulate plans, possibilities. But the blue light, the rush of air from the landing seemed to blow all of that away. All he could feel was excitement. Wonder. Like electricity fizzing through his veins.

The alien's helmet hissed back, revealing a face totally inhuman and yet- Tom found himself transfixed by enormous, limpid eyes. Doe's eyes, but with intelligence and purpose behind them.

When the alien spoke, its voice was deep, resonant, just slightly artificial, as though processed through some kind of translator. Masculine.

“Don't shoot,” it said. “We wish to parlay.”

Weaver and Maggie raised their weapons anyway. Tom gestured for them to stand at ease without taking his eyes from that alien face, and moved forward without waiting to see if they complied.

“Hello,” he said slowly, not breaking the locked gaze between him and the alien. “I'm Tom Mason.” He extended a hand.

There was a long pause. Tom could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart and the rushing of air in his ears. The bright blue light at the alien's back cast its- _his_ \- face into shadow, but Tom could still see flecks of light glimmering in those huge eyes.

Then his hand was being gingerly grasped by long, clawlike digits. “It is an honor to meet you, Tom Mason,” the alien said, solemnly.

Tom dragged his gaze from those eyes to the mouth, the intricate way it moved when the alien spoke. He let himself take in each detail. The way shapes shifted under the hard gray skin as the alien breathes- bone ridges? Muscle? Cartilage? The way those lines swooped so elegantly. The flaring of three sets of nostrils.

There was a heart-shaped ridge on the alien's forehead. Tom felt a sudden urge to trace it with one finger, as strong as anything he'd ever felt in his time on earth.

“The honor,” he said, breathlessly, “is entirely mine.”

 

* * *

 

The first few days passed in a blur. There was so much to do. He'd learned a lot about organization and administration in the past few years, but Charleston required attention on a scale he hadn't been prepared for. He knew it was unfair, but he couldn't help resenting Peralta for demanding so much of his time, time he could be spending on the Volm negotiations. He shouldn't. She was very helpful, smart, he owed her a lot. She didn't trust the Volm, but most in Charleston didn't. They would come around.

Of course, it would go a lot faster if he had more time to spend on building relations-

“These are probably the most important negotiations in the history of mankind,” he complained to Anne in the infirmary. “Am I the only one who can see that?”

“No, Tom,” Anne said fondly. “We all see it. And we're all grateful for all the effort you're putting into this. It's just-”

“What?” Tom asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” she said. “I've got another patient, and I'm sure you've got a meeting to get to.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, letting out an explosive breath. She pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied. He touched her stomach lightly. “And I love you three,” he said, and Anne laughed.

He felt uneasy, as he left. He tried to focus on Anne's face. The warm feelings he had for her and their child. How excited he was to be a father to a baby again.

A familiar deep voice echoed down the corridor. “President Mason,” and Tom forgot his unease, forgot all his worries and rounded the corner with a grin on his face.

“Cochise,” he said, jogging a few steps to meet the Volm and pat his arm jocularly. “I was just going to look for you.”

Cochise blinked slowly in the way Tom had come to interpret as a smile. “It is fortuitous, then, that I chose to walk this way in search of you.”

“Yes,” Tom said, still grinning like an idiot. “Walk outside with me? I feel like some fresh air.”

Cochise inclined his head, and Tom couldn't help but admire the elegant movement of his neck. They walked together, side by side in the narrow corridor, elbows brushing. Tom watched Cochise, the way he was so careful to keep pace with Tom's shorter steps. Tom held the door for Cochise as they stepped out into crisp air and pale sunshine.

He heard Matt shout “Dad,” and then braced for impact, catching his son mid-leap and swinging him up into the air. His back gave a twinge. Matt growing, or his injuries catching up to him. He lowered Matt to the ground, smiled at him. Matt grinned back.

“Hey,” and there was Hal, wheeling up to them. “Sorry, he got away from me.”

“It's no problem,” Tom said, glancing at Cochise, still smiling _, look, my sons, aren't they something?_

“Can you help with my homework later?” Matt asked, peering up at him from under a mass of curls. “Hal tries, but he's terrible at geometry.”

“Hey,” Hal complained. He grabbed Matt around the waist, tugged him away from Tom.

Tom hesitated. Matt was still looking at him, eyes wide. “I'm sorry, kiddo, I just don't think I'll have time today. Lots to do at the office, you know.” He watched Matt's expression sink, saw Hal out of the corner of his eye look away to hide- disappointment? Resignation? “You should ask Anne, she's great at math.”

“We will,” Hal said, turning his chair, pulling Matt along. “Thanks.”

“I'm sorry,” Tom said again. He ruffled Matt's hair. “I'll make it up to you soon, I promise.”

“I understand,” Matt said, sounding momentarily much older than any ten year old had the right to be. Then he broke out of Hal's grip. “Bet I can beat you to the cafeteria!” he shouted, and took off.

“In your dreams, squirt!” Hal called. He gave Tom one last glance before rolling after his brother.

Tom sighed. He felt eyes on the back of his neck, and turned. Cochise was watching him. He kept a smile on his face, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Your affection for your offspring,” Cochise said. “It is good to see.”

“They're great kids,” Tom said. He didn't usually feel so uncomfortable around their Volm ambassador.

“They are,” Cochise agreed. “Volm are bred to be either fighters or brooders. It is... it is good to see that your people may still be both.”

Well. That hit Tom somewhere deep. He rested a hand on Cochise's shoulder. “I'm sorry, my friend.”

Cochise stared at Tom's hand, and then looked at Tom, blinking. “Thank you,” he said. His tone was as even as ever, but Tom thought he was beginning to detect when the Volm was expressing great emotion. “It is unlikely I will ever see Volm hatchlings now that I am grown. I enjoy meeting the young of other species. It is a reminder of what we are all fighting to protect.”

“That's something we share,” Tom said quickly, squeezing Cochise's shoulder armor. This moment between them felt like the key to something huge. He was desperate to hold onto it. Everything seemed sharper than usual, the afternoon light more golden where it left bright edges on Cochise's armor, the low breeze stronger as it ruffled Tom's hair, bringing scents of wood fires and pine and the smell of hundreds of humans in close quarters. The ground felt solid beneath his feet. Cochise felt close and real under his hand. It was like he was waking up from a nightmare, one that had lasted... he didn't even know how long. “We might be so different in so many ways, but if we both care for children... that's something we have that the Espheni don't. I'd say that's a fine thing to build an alliance on.”

“Yes,” Cochise said.

 

* * *

 

He didn't get to bed until late that night. He tried to move quietly, coming in, but Anne shifted and opened her eyes. “I thought you'd never show up,” she murmured sleepily. “I was beginning to think you were planning on sleeping on the couch in your office.”

“Never,” Tom said, bending over to kiss her forehead. “That thing is hard as a rock.”

She had a nightmare that night. Tom stroked her hair as she thrashed, calling out for her husband and son. “Shh,” he whispered. He was used to this. God knew she was used to soothing him when he woke up shouting for Rebecca. There were times he wondered if they'd come together simply to avoid dreaming alone. But it was more than that, now. They loved each other. God, they were having a baby. Just thinking about it still overwhelmed him.

“Shh,” he muttered. She quieted and stilled. He listened until he heard her breathing level out, and then he got up and dressed as quietly as he could, and slipped out into the night.

He didn't have any particular destination in mind, but he found himself at the back gates of the settlement. “Evening, gentlemen,” he called to the night watch. One laughed. “Ladies,” he added.

“It's morning now, sir,” the laugher said.

“I stand corrected. Mind if I go for a walk?”

He couldn't see the kid's face in the dark, but there was a pause before she said, “OK, Mr. President. Don't be long.” She sounded worried, but clearly couldn't think up a reason why he shouldn't stroll over towards the Volm complex in the dead hours of night. It was about as safe out there as it was in the settlement.

He didn't actually need to walk that far. A dark shape stood by the lake, cut out against reflected moonlight in the water. Tom walked up to the bank, stood looking out at the distant lights of the Espheni structures.

“President Mason,” Cochise said. “Should you not be resting?”

Tom shrugged. “Couldn't sleep. And please, Cochise, call me Tom. Or Professor, at least. Still feel more like a professor than a president.”

“Very well,” Cochise said. “Professor Tom Mason.”

“Like the sound of it?”

“It is a short name,” Cochise said, “by Volm standards.”

“Surely you've encountered other species with shorter names than yours.”

“Yes,” Cochise said, “and longer.” He tilted his head up, towards the cloudless sky. “I cannot see our home star,” he said. Was Tom imagining it, or did he sound mournful?

“It might be light pollution,” Tom offered. “From the Espheni.”

“It might,” Cochise agreed.

They stood there in the quiet. Tom breathed in and out. Listened to Cochise breathe. He felt stress and claustrophobia he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying just slide away.

“So, you couldn't sleep either, huh?”

“We do not require as much rest as you. My duties right now are... light. I have more unfilled time than I am accustomed to.”

“Well,” Tom said, “I'd be happy to kill it with you. Got no duties at night.”

“Should you not be resting?”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, I should.” He ducked his head. “But I don't seem to sleep so well nowadays, so...”

Cochise said, “I am here whenever you wish for my company.”

The words made him feel warm in the cold autumn night.

 

* * *

 

The soldiers, the shouting, the guns all pointed at Cochise, standing there open and defenseless, it all sent spikes of panic shooting into Tom's brain and spine and he was shouting himself, throwing himself between the soldiers and the alien. They kicked him aside. He registered the pain but the panic was stronger, pushing him to crawl, reach, plead “Hold on, hold on, wait, _wait_ -”

 _No_ his brain shouted when the soldiers pushed him and Weaver in one direction, Cochise in another, and Cochise gazed at him placidly, said, “Professor, I will be all right,” but Cochise hadn't seen the movies where the aliens got dissected and he didn't know human history, how homo sapiens traditionally reacted to the unknown during wartime-

He sold the pitch as hard as he could to President Hathaway, waited for Hathaway to give him an opening. And he did. “And you expect us to take your word for it?” Tom bit down on a triumphant smile.

“No, sir. His.”

Which got him to a tiny room full of soldiers and guns and Cochise, sitting very still on a chair but not cuffed to it which was something, and he appeared whole and unharmed and the knot in Tom's stomach loosened, and then Cochise spoke about a flower and a brother and everything faded away, the President and the soldiers, everything but Cochise and his voice and his words.

He was still in that quiet peaceful space when he reached Anne, told her he didn't know when he'd be home. She was understanding. She was always understanding. He asked her to kiss Lexi for him. They were completely safe, both of them, and he was free to be useful, to get things done, and to watch Cochise, make sure none of the people here hurt him. The future was stretching out before him- days, perhaps even weeks, of talking, planning, building bridges, infinite possibilities with Cochise at his side-

Then the sirens began and everything came crashing down. They got in Pope's plane but Cochise wasn't with them- “He comes with us,” Tom shouted but they led him away anyway and Tom couldn't think about it any more he had to focus on surviving the escape but then the other plane went down and Tom screamed at Pope and Bressler, “We got to land! We got to make sure!” and he tried to tell himself he was concerned for the President but if there was the slightest chance Cochise was alive and alone, maybe dying, down there, so far from home, and Tom was just abandoning him-

Then their plane went down too and everything went black.

 

* * *

 

“You know you're acting crazy.”

“Dan, in case you hadn't noticed, crazy is where I live right now! I've got a half alien daughter!” and saying it out loud made the reality of it come crashing down and he expected to be crushed but instead he was just more infuriated. Anne and Lexi were gone and it was his fault for not paying attention and if he just stoked up that anger it could hide the void where other feelings should be. He could pretend he wasn't broken inside.

His ankle screamed at him with every step but he welcomed the pain. Pain, anger, they were good, old friends.

Peralta was buzzing at him but it didn't matter. The Volm didn't need him, or Cochise. If there was one thing he still believed in it was them. Charleston had to support that. If he knew that was assured he could take Hal and go after Karen right this instant-

Hal hit Peralta on the back of the head. She went down.

 

* * *

 

“Tom.”

 _No_ , he thought, _no_. He opened his eyes. Saw a strange yet familiar face peering down at him with calm, kind eyes. “No,” he said, trying to be firm. “You're dead.”

“I believed the same of you, my friend,” Cochise said. He had a long arm curled around Tom's shoulders. Holding him. Firm and reassuring. “Your survival seems the greater miracle. Humans are considerably frailer than Volm. I feared greatly for you.”

“It's ok,” Tom said. Lifted a heavy arm, patted Cochise's hard gray face. “I'm fine. I'm here.”

“You are,” Cochise agreed equably.

“OK,” a woman's voice shouts, and things snap sharply back into focus because _Karen, that's KAREN, no, NO_ , “enough lovey-dovey, we've got a schedule to meet here!”

There were skitters grabbing Cochise with their segmented limbs, pulling him away, _no, NO, NO._

“Tom,” Cochise said, “it will be all right,” and then the skitters ripped something blue and glowing from his armor and his voice disintegrated into hisses and clicks that Tom couldn't understand. But he kept his eyes on Tom's face. Tom yelled, but he was still strapped to the table, he couldn't break free no matter how his muscles strained.

“You could tell us what we need to know right now, Tom,” Karen said, “and both of you could walk back to Charleston right now. Or you could tell us in a few minutes, and you'd have to carry whatever's left of your pal here. Any takers?” She paused, looked at Tom, who stared at her in hatred. “No?” She turned to the skitters. “An arm first, I think.”

Cochise screamed as his arm snapped. Tom hadn't heard a Volm scream before. Skitters, Overlords, he'd seen them react to pain. It had affected him, he wasn't a sociopath. Not yet. But Cochise- Cochise- He was screaming too. He could just about hear himself. “I'll kill you,” he was shrieking hoarsely. “I'll kill you all you sons of bitches-”

Cochise drew a sobbing breath. Clicked and whistled at him. Subsided. “Cochise,” Tom said, with what voice he had left. “I'll get you out of here. You hear me? We're going to get out of here.”

“Don't lie,” Karen said. She sounded angry. She nodded at the skitters. There was another dry snap. Cochise screamed again.

By the fourth break, he didn't do more than twitch. Tom screamed for him, even after losing his voice.

“We've learned quite a lot about Volm anatomy,” Karen said, lifting something long and sharp. “The study of captured live Volm has proved _instructive_. We're very knowledgeable about how to dismantle them very, _very_ slowly.”

Tom swallowed, wetting his throat, and forced out words in a harsh whisper. “Don't. He's valuable. Much more valuable than me. He knows the plan as well as I do. Better.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Karen said. She sounded- the Overlord using her body sounded regretful. “Unfortunately, the Volm have bred themselves to resist all forms of torture. And believe me, we've tried them all. They don't let personal emotional concerns override the greater objective.” She smiled. “Not like you do.” She stabbed. Cochise spasmed and whistled, so high-pitched Tom's ears ached. Karen patted the remnants of armor on the Volm's chest. “Now, now,” she said. “Your body's going to try and go into a regenerative coma. You'll find the serum we injected you with will prevent that. I'm afraid this next part's going to be very unpleasant for you.” She looked up. “Unless Professor Mason wants to share with the class?”

“In a moment,” Tom said.

That startled her. “What?”

“I have two questions first,” Tom said. “One for you, and one for Cochise.”

“All right,” she said, trying to regain her smirk. He needed to wipe it off. If he couldn't strangle her, at least he could show her not everything would go her way. “What would you like to know?”

“Why Cochise?”

“What do you mean?”

“What made you think I'd care if you tortured Cochise?”

The smile was completely gone. “We've had a mole in your ranks for months, Tom. Of course we knew you'd made an Espheni friend.”

He didn't want to push this, didn't want to think about it, couldn't concentrate on anything with Cochise leaking dark blood in front of him but he had to. He had to focus on how much he hated Karen. That at least was clear enough. “Sure, but why not Anne? Or Lexi?”

“They're dead,” Karen spat.

He couldn't let himself think. Or feel. Just talk. “Just one more reason for me to want to blow you bastards out of the sky, no matter who gets cut up in the process. And Cochise? Just one more alien. Not even one of my own. So why bring him in here to torture me? Unless... unless you somehow knew something...” He had to make himself continue. “Something no one knew except me.”

Silence.

“Which brings me to my second question.” He twisted his head against the restraints. Cochise's eyes were half closed in pain, but he was still looking at Tom. Calm. Steady. Tom couldn't stop his voice from softening. “Cochise.”

The Volm blinked, very slowly. He whistled, short and quiet.

“What's your brother's name?”

Nothing. Tom hadn't expected anything.

“You don't know,” he said, vision finally fogging with tears. “You don't know because I don't know. Because you're not real. I'm sorry. You're dead. I'm so sorry. I failed you.”

Karen's screams of frustration echoed around in Tom's head as everything went dark. Soon there'd be a new scenario, a new mind game, and he'd forget all of this, and selfishly, he was glad. He wanted so badly to forget being finally forced to name the thing he'd been ignoring, now, when it was far too late, when Cochise was gone and Tom would never know his brother's name to add to the litany of the lost. It didn't matter. There were so many dead. He was going to die in Karen's cage and it wouldn't matter if he'd felt too much for the wrong losses. No one would know but him and Karen and Karen would be dead soon too.

 

* * *

 

Cochise was alive.

Cochise was alive, and Tom was alive, and suddenly those thoughts and feelings weren't so irrelevant any more and Tom could not think about it. Anne and Lexi were dead and Tom deserved to be too because he was the real alien, the monster disguised as a human whose emotions were always just too muted to be real, and he overcompensated, tried to fake it, tried to be the lover Rebecca and Anne deserved and the father his children deserved and he thought he loved them but couldn't that be fake, too, like everything else about him, all counterfeit except his anger and this bizarre _obsession_ with-

His brain finally processed what his eyes were seeing and he stopped, hanging on the threshold of a moment, and then he was moving towards the tall gray figure that stood there, waiting for him, head slightly tilted, saying, “I'm very happy to see you return to us,” and then, after a pause so small it might not have been a pause at all, “...my friend.”

That pause did strange things to Tom's stomach that he couldn't examine. He touched Cochise's shoulder, let his hand slide down his arm. “I saw your plane go down,” he said. “I didn't think I was ever going to see you again.”

“Fate is a strange thing,” said Cochise, the alien, his- his friend. “It grants us favors when we least expect it, and deals us blows when we are least prepared for them.”

Tom realized what Cochise must be referring to, and simultaneously realized that his face was stuck in an idiot's grin. He forced his head and eyes down, guilt biting at him.

“I am terribly sorry about Anne and your daughter.”

“Thank you,” Tom muttered, interrupting before Cochise could say anything else. He drew a breath, searched for the words that would stop well-meaning sympathy. “Yeah I... I can't really think about that right now. Got to keep moving on.”

He drew Cochise down the corridor, taking his arm to guide him through the crowded space in an old familiar habit. Cochise continued talking, about grief, and lost second chances, and his brother, because Cochise was the best person Tom knew and he was trying to help someone he assumed to be in agony, because he didn't know what human grief was supposed to look like, and Tom wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and die but he still couldn't stop smiling, or look away from Cochise for longer than a moment. Whatever this was, it was a sickness in him, a flaw, a fault.

He managed to tear his eyes away. “I used to think that love gave me an edge,” he found himself saying. Could Cochise hear his bitterness? “Maybe it's just an impediment that clouds our thinking.”

Cochise blinked at him. “What, then, is the alternative?” He was earnest. Intent. “Not to love, so we never have to grieve?”

Tom stared at him, lost for words.

“Tom,” Cochise said. Tom got the impression he'd said it a few times. “Tom, are you all right?”

Calling him by his given name. Like he had in the fake dream. But this was real now. Tom was sure of it.

There was moisture dripping from his eyes and nose. Oh God, he was crying. No one could see this. No one could see their President crying in public.

“Tom-”

“I'm sorry, I have to-” There was an open door. He bolted through it into a dark deserted room, only vaguely aware of Cochise following. Of Cochise carefully closing the door.

“Oh God,” he said aloud, hugging his arms to his chest.

“Tom,” Cochise said, and touched him, so gently, on the arm, and that was the last straw. Tom turned and collapsed against Cochise's armored chest. Face pressed between the bandoliers. His shoulders shook. His breath came in heaving sobs.

Claws settled lightly against his shoulder blades.

“I'm sorry,” Tom gasped.

“There is no need to apologize.”

“Yes. Yes, Cochise, there is.”

“Should friends not turn to each other for emotional support?”

This only made him gasp louder, sucking in air. “ _Why?_ ” he demanded. “Why are we friends? Why do you like me?”

Slight pressure, on his shoulders. Cochise, holding him. “You are a good person, Tom Mason. I deeply regret that you do not see that.”

“You don't _know_ ,” Tom said. “You don't know the thoughts I have, the feelings-”

“I do not need to.” Was he- was he rubbing circles on Tom's back?

Tom dug his fingers into the ridges of the alien armor. “You're alive,” he whispered, “you're alive, _you're alive..._ ”

“We are both alive,” Cochise said. “And so there remains hope.”

 

* * *

 

 The Volm complex was in flames, the Volm were dead, the weapon might well be destroyed and Tom couldn't bring himself to care because Cochise was still breathing and Tom would not let go of his hand. Let the others think whatever they liked.

“Listen, you can't let loss break you, right? That's what you were trying to tell me before. Hope is stronger than loss.”

Cochise breathed in and out. He was bleeding so much, the gurney soaked with it. He was struggling to stay awake and focused but he was there, he was there for Tom, eyes focused on him.

“And the human spirit remains the most powerful weapon on this planet,” he said. “That is a gift. If you do not allow it to be extinguished, it will carry you to victory.”

Tom squeezed the cold gray hand. “Let it carry you,” he begged.

Cochise groaned. His eyes closed and his fingers went limp. Convulsively, Tom squeezed them again. _No-_

The eyes opened. He looked away from Tom, at Lourdes. “In a short time,” he said, clearly struggling to speak, “if not disturbed, my body will regenerate itself. You need do nothing.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “Okay, we'll make sure you're not disturbed.”

They rolled the gurney into a corner, Tom moving with it, not leaving Cochise. Cochise's eyes opened again. He was looking at Tom once more. This time it was different. As though he was no longer aware of anyone else in the room.

“One day, I-” He struggled. Tom waited. “I- I hope we may restore... each other's hearts, Professor.”

So much to say, and no time to say it in. He supposed he should be grateful to at least have this moment. “I look forward to that day,” he said, and knew it for the deepest truth he'd ever told.

 

* * *

 

All right, so he was a fool. And in idiot. And many other even less complimentary things, all of which he had ample time to apply to himself, in his Volm holding cell. He had been so sure.

He had been so blinded by infatuation. He could see that now.

He'd wanted to believe in something better. In the light at the end of the tunnel. In white knights in shining armor, coming down from the skies to usher in a better world.

When he was a kid he'd fantasized about aliens abducting him and taking him away from his father. A stupid weakness which Cochise had been happy to exploit.

Had that kid ever really grown up? Hadn't he just dressed in big boy clothes and played house? Played at war?

Pope had seen him holding a Volm's hand like he was his prom date. Tom was never going to hear the end of that.

 

* * *

 

Then Cochise showed them their guns, and none of it mattered.

“So,” Tom said, as his people filed around him, leaving the two of them in an island of quiet. “Physical contact with a Volm commander is a serious breach of etiquette, huh?”

There wasn't enough light to really see Cochise flush, but Tom was sure the Volm's face turned a few shades darker. “Our people are not very physically expressive, Professor. Contact between us is usually either... aggressive or sexual.”

“Ah,” Tom said, mouth twitching. “And when you hugged me the other day, which was that?”

Cochise ducked his head. “I have learned from my time with your people that touch is often used to express friendship or comradery,” he said, stiffly.

Tom knew he shouldn't push. He should let it drop. But he was sick of partings heavy with things unsaid. “And have you learned to distinguish between friendly contact and sexual contact?”

Cochise's head tilted. “I believe so-”

Tom kissed him.

He didn't have to stand on the tips of his toes, there wasn't that much height difference between them, but it was still a new experience, moving up; even the guys he'd kissed in college hadn't been taller than him, and they certainly hadn't had dry, hard, almost lipless mouths. Tom didn't try for anything adventurous, just a second's touch of skin to skin, but still when he stepped back he was out of breath. “So which was that?” he asked.

Cochise raised his fingers, touched his lips slowly, like in a trance.

Tom took another step back, already treading the rising waters of regret. “Just something to think about, all right? I'd better catch up with the others. I guess we'll-”

“Tom.” Cochise caught him by the arm, preventing him from moving further. “I believe I have already done all the thinking required.”

Tom froze. “You mean-”

“Yes.” And maybe Cochise wasn't moving his mouth the way humans did but Tom knew, knew that he was smiling.

Tom didn't know what to do. Had never been in any situation like this before. But his hand seemed to know. It reached up and rested itself on the side of Cochise's head. “I have to go,” he said.

“I know,” Cochise said, and Tom felt the vibrations when he spoke.

“I hope I see you again soon.”

Cochise laid his own palm over Tom's. “I cannot imagine anything more pleasing,” he said, with such utter sincerity that Tom was left wordless. He nodded, and turned, and went after his family, jogging to catch up.

“What are you grinning about?” Ben asked.

Tom laughed. “Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

Then he shot Karen. Then Anne and Lexi appeared in the woods. Very much alive. And Lexi looked about ten years older than she had the last time he'd seen her.

 _This is your life, Tom Mason,_ he thought. _For a second things make sense, and then it all turns into... this._

He shouldn't be thinking things like that. He should be happy. Overjoyed.

He wasn't.

 


	2. Chapter 2

They were a week out of Boston when Cochise found them, somewhere in New Jersey. It was night, and they were under enough tree cover that Tom had judged it safe to light a fire. Fire wasn't really necessary, now that summer was really getting going, but it had a strong psychological effect that was not to be discounted.

“Dad,” Matt shouted, “Dad, it's Cochise,” and he ran into the circle, Weaver and Cochise following more slowly behind. The conversation around the fire didn't totally die away, but it faded to a low murmur. Tom stood up.

Cochise looked tired, and worse for wear. Tom watched him look around the circle, waited, filled with dread, until Cochese saw Anne, holding Lexi in her lap. Lexi gazed back at the alien with a preternatural calm self-possession. Tom saw Cochise's eyes widen a little, and then Cochise looked away. Addressed the whole circle. “Hello.” 

“Cochise,” Tom said, but didn't walk over and grasp his friend's shoulders, the way he would have a week ago. “It's good to see you, my friend.” 

Cochise nodded. “I am glad to see all of you. Are you all right?” 

“We're fine,” Tom said. “Are you all right?” 

“I am well enough. I am afraid I bring unfortunate news.” 

The small conversations around the campfire abruptly cut out. Thirty sets of human ears all focused on Cochise's next words. 

“Well,” Tom said, forcing a laugh, “don't leave us in suspense.”

“It may be nothing,” Cochise said. Tom wished he could see him better, without the fire that stung his eyes and left red spots dancing in his vision. “I do not wish to distress you unduly. But reports from the greater Volm fleet have been... worrying. I am unsure what effect, if any, this may have on the war effort here.”

“Wait,” Weaver said. “You saying your people might pull out?”

“No,” Cochise said quickly. “We will honor our responsibility to your planet. However, reinforcements and supplies may be delayed. Progress may be significantly slowed.” He held out something metallic, with a faint blue glowing light that danced in the dark around the fire. “Here, Professor.”

Tom jogged forward to take the thing from him. “What is this?” he asked.

“It is a communicator. It will allow me to update you with relevant information, in an emergency. I sincerely hope that will not be necessary, but we live in uncertain times.” The communicator safely in Tom's hands, Cochise turned slightly, and bowed to the group. “Good luck. I will leave you to your journey.”

“Cochise- Cochise, wait!” Now, finally, Tom touched him, catching his arm with his free hand. “How far have you walked on your own? Sit down, rest a bit. Tell us what you've been up to.”

“I do not require rest.”

God damn the darkness and that inscrutable voice. “Then can you at least share any tactical information you have about hostiles in this area?”

A pause. “Very well.” Yes, there was definite stiffness in that tone. Discomfort, or outright disapproval? Tom swallowed.

“Here,” he said, tugging on Cochise's arm. “Come to my tent. I've got a map we can use.”

He avoided looking at anyone as he led Cochise away from the fire.

 

* * *

 

It was dark, hot, and close in the small tent. Tom fumbled for the lantern, switched it on and found himself staring into yellow eyes. “Cochise,” he said, feeling helpless. 

Softly, Cochise said, “I am very happy to see that Anne and your daughter have returned to you.”

“Yes,” Tom said. He coughed. “Yes, I am as well, of course. We're very lucky. Did you- I guess you must have noticed, something very, very weird is going on with Alexis, but we'll- we'll figure it out.”

“Colonel Weaver told me, before we left Charleston, that your child possesses Espheni DNA,” Cochise said. “That must be very concerning. I am sorry.”

The lamp swung from its hook, illuminating Cochise's face one moment and throwing him into deep shadow the next. It was disorienting. Tom rubbed his eyes. “You're not- you're not angry? I thought maybe you'd tell me she was dangerous, and we should be more careful. Treat her like a potential threat.”

Cochise shook his head, a human gesture he'd picked up in Charleston. “I do not know what she may or may not be,” he said. “I trust your judgment.”

Tom sighed. “Cochise,” he said. “Look, I-” He stopped. Cochise didn't say anything, just waited, yellow eyes so big and wide. “What happened between us in Boston,” he said, at last. “I thought Anne was dead.” Still just silence. He rushed to fill it. “Humans, we're, uh, primarily monogamous. Not always, but, Anne and I are, are...” He drifted off, closed his eyes. “God damn it, Cochise, say something.”

“I do not know what to say,” Cochise said, so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Shout. Insult me. Be angry.”

“Oh,” Cochise said. “Human emotion.” He sounded- bewildered. “I still do not entirely understand it. Why should I be angry with you? You did not mislead me, or act dishonorably.”

“Didn't I?” Tom asked, miserably. “I feel like I did.”

Cochise looked away. “It is probably for the best that things turned out this way.”

It was like being punched in the stomach. “What?”

“I should not have acted as I did in Boston. It was inappropriate. I fear that I am the one who has misled you.”

“Wait.” Tom spread his hands out on the folding table to steady himself. “What are you saying? Did we-” He stopped. His eyes were prickling, more out of frustration than anything else. He scrubbed at them roughly with one sleeve. “I thought I was signaling that I had- that I have, you know- romantic feelings for you, and I- I thought you were signaling that back. If I was mistaken, then I apologize for the misunderstanding!” His voice was starting to rise and he cut it off.

“I did not misunderstand.” Cochise hesitated, and then he reached out, and laid his hand over Tom's, where it was curled around the rim of the table. Tom watched his white knuckles disappear under leathery fingers.

“Tom,” Cochise said. “The Volm have no concept of romantic love. I taught myself about it during my research of your planet, but I did not understand it until I saw it among the humans of Charleston. Until I saw it between you and Anne.” Tom's eyes burned hotter and he wanted to cover his ears to block the words out but he couldn't because he was pinned to the table by that heavy hand. “I did not understand your idea of familial love until I saw you with your children. I love my father. I love my comrades. I love my broodmothers. None of that has prepared me for the things I have felt since living among humans. Tom, you are distressed.”

“I'm fine,” Tom whispered. “Please continue.”

“If you certain you are well.”

“I said I was fine. Please. I want to hear.”

“Very well. As I said, forming bonds outside of the Volm is very... strange. I do not know exactly what I feel for you, Tom Mason. Only that it is very strong.” Cochise withdrew his hand. Tom felt colder with its absence. “It is better for you to have a partner who can properly reciprocate your feelings. Anne Glass is my friend, and I am relieved that she is safe. She is also your breeding partner and broodmate and the parent and mother of your child. It is very impressive for two people to be all of those things to each other. I am glad that you have her back, and that your partnership is still strong.”

Tom stared at his bare hands.

“If you give me your map, I can mark what I know, though my intelligence is very limited.”

“It's in the bag behind you,” Tom said, distantly.

He heard rustling, and quiet scritching. He didn't look up. After a minute the scritching stopped.

“I will leave now,” Cochise said. “Please keep the communicator with you. I will contact you when I know more.”

“Wait,” Tom said.

He breathed in and out. He let go of the table. He looked up.

There was a dark sticky patch on the side of Cochise's head. Why hadn't he noticed it before? He gestured. “What's that?”

Cochise's hand slowly drifted towards his head, and then back down. “Oh,” he said. “Blood. Not mine. One of my men. We encountered a group of mechs a day ago. Do not be concerned. We eliminated them. However, Hach-Chak was...” His hand moved vaguely again. “Yes. I should wash.”

So easy, Tom thought. So easy to get caught up in our little dramas and forget that we're still living in Hell.

Tom took one of Cochise's hands. Held it. Smoothed his thumb over wrinkles and creases, trying to remember the feeling. “Please,” he said, “just please stay safe.”

“Yes,” Cochise said. “I will try, Tom Mason.”

“Daddy?”

Tom dropped Cochise's hand like it was red-hot and turned towards the tent entrance, where a small girl was crawling under the flap. “Lexi,” Tom said. “What are you doing here?”

Lexi stared at him for a moment and then turned to Cochise. “You're Cochise,” she said.

“Yes,” Cochise said. “You are Alexis Glass-Mason. I am honored to meet you.”

Matt at that age would have giggled. Lexi just nodded.

“You're Daddy and Mommy's friend,” Lexi said. “That's good. I'm glad you decided to stay.”

Cochise flinched as though Lexi had struck him. Tom moved to his daughter, picked her up. “OK, Lexi, time to go back to Mom and stop bothering Cochise.”

“I was not bothered,” Cochise said behind him, but he sounded oddly shaken.

When Tom returned to the tent Cochise was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the days that followed, things settled into a kind of routine. The mechs and skitters seemed to avoid them. People sang as they marched. It was summer, and the woods seemed full of game. They even came across an untouched gas station. Matt and Lexi got candy, and there was a massive rock-paper-scissors tournament for the ten tubes of toothpaste.

For the first time in a while, there was very little to plan or organize. Tom let Weaver make most of the calls. He focused on spending his time with his family. Hal was quiet and tired. Matt was sullen at first but he warmed under Tom's relentless siege of dad jokes and hair-rufflings. Ben seemed to have latched onto Lexi. He was the one to carry her on his shoulders and name everything that they passed for her.

Tom held hands with Anne as they walked. He kissed her when they worked together packing up camp. They had quiet sex in their small tent, Lexi asleep with Ben and Matt ten feet away. Tom made a list of all the things he liked about her. How soft and long her hair was when it sprayed over his skin. How beautiful her face was. The way her body curled around his. The way she laughed when he kissed the back of her neck.

He was determined to learn to be happy. And briefly, he was. He thought he was.

Then the walls came down.

 

* * *

 

 

Tom wasn't sure if the Espheni had difficulty distinguishing between humans or they just didn't care that much about him. Either way, he wasn't singled out and shot. He and Weaver got tossed in the ghetto with everyone else. “Keep your head down, Tom,” Weaver had said, and he'd agreed, and two days later they'd both gotten themselves thrown in solitary, and presumably the Espheni had tossed away the keys.

They hadn't searched him. Every night he took the Volm communicator out from its place under his coat.

Every night it stayed dark and silent.

 

* * *

 

 

“Been a long time, Cochise,” Tom said. “Too long.”

Cochise was standing as close as he could to the ghetto wall without getting fried. He was wearing a shapeless hooded robe of some kind of sackcloth. Just seeing him sent a rush of relief and anger through Tom. He'd thought Cochise was dead.

“I didn't think it was gonna take four months for this to light up. Where have you been?”

“I would have gotten here sooner if I could, but I found this perimeter to be unexpectedly impenetrable-”

“You couldn't have called? Let me know you were out there, at least?”

Cochise frowned. “I am sorry,” he said. “I did not consider the situation from a human perspective.”

“Damn right.” Tom sighed. He wanted to keep going, accuse Cochise of never considering anything from the human perspective. He didn't have time. “But that's not the main question. I mean, what about the Volm. Where the hell did you guys go?” His hands fisted in the fabric of his coat. “Did your father turn his back on us?”

Something changed in Cochise's face, and when he spoke it was with undisguised bitterness. “My father doesn't consider you much at all when it comes to larger Volm operations. Earth is not our only battlefront with the Espheni.”

It was Boston all over again. He'd thought his one conversation with Waschak-cha'ab had led to a moment of connection. Apparently he had been wrong. “So, after all his talk about liberating humans from the yoke of the Espheni, he just... up and abandoned the whole deal, huh?”

“Yes,” Cochise said, and he sounded more angry than Tom had ever heard him sound before. “You are correct. We did abandon you, but the greater Volm force had to go. And now I feel your pain of displaced loved ones.”

“What are you talking about? Go? Where?”

“My father redirected our fleet to the Alicante 8 cluster. It is where we hid our brood mates and hatchlings... Our family... from the Espheni. Hoping they would escape notice. They did not. We had to defend them or risk extinction ourselves.”

Tom wanted to be closer to the fence. He wanted to have a better view of Cochise's face. Maybe breathing the same air as Cochise would loosen the knot in his chest. He couldn't. He had to stay in the shadows. He only had a minute before the sentry would circle back around. There were questions he needed to ask, but despair was threatening to come crashing down. He'd held onto hope that maybe the communicator was simply malfunctioning, that the Volm were still out there going toe to toe with the Espheni. Instead Cochise was telling him that both their species were in danger of extinction. It was such a cosmic disaster that he couldn't quite come to grips with it.

Calm down, Mason. “How many Volm are left on earth?”

Cochise hesitated. “A handful of Volm units remain, scattered about the globe, small recon teams.”

“So your father left you to, what, keep an eye on the situation?”

Hesitation again. “Yes. We believe the Espheni are constructing a new power source, which would neutralize any further attempt to liberate humanity once and for all.”

He wanted to explore Cochise's evasion, but this new information took priority. “What kind of power source?” Yet another crisis, another deadline. Another goal. He could use a solid goal.

“That is as much as I can say for now.”

Of course.

“I've got one more thing. Hal is in here with me, but Matt and Ben, and Lexi, and Anne... I don't know where they are.”

Cochise nodded. “I will look for them.” His hand moved as though to reach across the glowing lines of fire, but did not.

Tom wanted to say something else- wanted to end their too-brief contact on a better note than they'd left things in the forest- but he couldn't think of the words. He didn't know what he wanted from Cochise, or what he was willing to give.

“Thank you,” he said.

 

* * *

 

 

When he saw Cochise again, a week later, he had to stop himself from running to him, had to force himself to maintain a steady pace, but then Cochise was within arm's reach and all control vanished and he clung to him, so tall and solid and real, he pressed his face into Cochise's chest, breathed in the smell of him. 

Going after Matt, he finally began to feel like the world was righting itself. With Cochise helping, everything would swing in their favor. Of course, that feeling only lasted until Cochise was attacked and poisoned. Tom held his head, hands pressed to Cochise's face, feeling the same useless panic he'd felt the last time Cochise had been incapacitated. There was nothing he could do to help except show his concern and sympathy. It seemed to be enough. Cochise's face relaxed a little from its rictus of agony. Then his eyes closed, and the burned area started to scab over. Tom stepped back.

“He'll be all right,” he told Weaver, mostly to reassure himself.

He _was_ all right, thank God. But then he told Tom they had to split up again. It would always be like this, Tom realized. Cochise would always leave.

With Anne, he could think about an after. There'd be time to work on their relationship, after. But if the war ever was won, Cochise would leave for good.

Tom watched him disappear into the grass, and squeezed Matt's shoulder to fend off sudden loneliness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One thing he'd never counted on was Dingaan. A small surprise, in the enormous shitstorm of surprises that was that year, but unlike an alien daughter or a base on the moon, it was a human kind of surprise that he maybe should have seen coming. He didn't, not until he clapped Dingaan on the face in congratulation after they'd successfully avoided a patrol and Dingaan had said, eyebrows raised, “You're a very handsy person, aren't you, Tom?” 

He'd frozen. Probably looked like a deer in the headlights. That was where it went wrong. He should have just laughed, moved on, forgotten all about it. Instead he was paralyzed as Dingaan slowly grinned and said, “Hey. I didn't say I didn't like it.”

Which. That was. A thing.

He'd been more or less successful lying to himself that his attraction to Cochise was nothing more than fascination with the alien. He couldn't pretend that with Dingaan. Dingaan was very human. And witty. And had an incredible laugh. And Tom wasn't sure if Dingaan liked him or wanted to strangle him, but he knew he liked Dingaan.

Fuck.

All right, yes, he'd known he was attracted to men, he was, well, bisexual, he supposed, but he didn't- he'd never dated a man, or gone any further than drunken handjobs, and when he'd met Rebecca- she'd been perfect, an amazing friend, he'd loved her and their house and children and giving in to this other attraction now felt like a betrayal of her and their life together.

He remembered lying in their cold bed in Boston and Rebecca's warm ghost telling him, “There's nothing here for you any more.”

Get it together, he thought. The apocalypse is not the time for your sexuality crisis.

He didn't want- a relationship, or whatever, with Dingaan, it was just- physical attraction, it wasn't like- whatever was happening with Cochise. And it had been half a year since he'd been intimate with Anne, and yes, all right, he wanted Dingaan. But that wasn't going to happen, even if Dingaan wanted him back which wasn't a given, because he was with Anne and he had been many bad things but never unfaithful.

Anne could be dead.

He thought it and immediately froze, in the middle of his restless patrol around their makeshift camp, legs locking as his brain automatically rained down recrimination, self loathing, disgust. No, he thought, no, I didn't... I didn't wish for it, of course not, I'm not that much of a monster. It was just...

No, no, he loved Anne, even if she hadn't been his partner she still would have been his friend, they'd had each other's backs for years, saved each other's lives so many times...

He was so self centered. Assuming anyone would even want someone as terrible as him.

 

* * *

 

 

Anne wasn't dead, and neither was Ben. And neither was Lexi. 

Dingaan seemed eager to stay out of all of it, which, fine, he'd probably do the same in Dingaan's place, and he wasn't quite desperate enough to go begging for validation from a man he'd only known a few weeks.

He was pretty desperate, though.

“Dad,” it was Hal, guarded, unsure what to expect from him, “Cochise is back.”

Cochise appeared and Tom hugged him again because he could. Anne wasn't around to watch, she was with Kadar, refusing to believe he wasn't capable of miracles. Tom reached to take Cochise by the arm, and stopped, the natural, unthinking physical familiarity of the past jarringly strange now. “Walk with me?” he asked, and Cochise nodded, and followed him into the gardens.

“So,” Tom said, “I assume Shaq filled you in on the, uh, the Lexi situation.”

Cochise nodded again.

Tom turned to him, stared at him beseechingly. “Tell me what to do,” he said. “Tell me what to do and I'll do it. I can't trust myself, not right now. But I trust you. More than anyone.”

“If I had an answer for you, believe me, I would give it. But on this I cannot advise you. I have told you that the soldiers of my people do not raise our own children. My father would certainly not endanger a mission for my sake, but he did not see me hatch, or feed me, or soothe me when I cried.” There were actual tears forming in the corners of Cochise's eyes. “All I can offer you is my own trust that you will choose rightly. And... my assurance that even if your choice is wrong... I will stand by it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn right I'm lying to myself! I lie to myself every day. Sometimes every hour of every day. And sometimes that's not even enough, and I do it anyway." 

Dingaan was staring at him. Tom stepped forward, grabbed his shirt, and then, somehow, they were kissing. They were trapped under a pile of rubble and alien spaceship, doomed to death by suffocation or crushing, and they were kissing. Dingaan still hyperventilating whenever they paused for air.

“Oh, my God,” Dingaan said, after they stop, and just stared at each other, what they could see of each other in the dark.

“Fuck,” Tom said.

“Yeah,” Dingaan said. He seemed a little dazed. “Can we just put whatever that was on hold until we either get out of here or die.”

“So you do believe we can get out of here?”

“You are crazy enough to do anything.”

Tom laughed, high pitched and hysterical, and Dingaan laughed with him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Dad!” Matt, screaming, clinging to him. Weaver, dust-covered, smiling at Tom even as he clapped Dingaan on the shoulder. And a third figure, taller. Tom smiled at Cochise over Matt's head. The Volm did not smile back, or relax at all from his hunched, tense posture 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tom,” Dingaan said, “you need to talk to Anne.” 

Tom turned to glare at him. “You too? This is really not the time, pal! I am trying to plan how to get us to _the Moon_.”

“I understand,” Dingaan said. “But you need to talk to your partner.”

Tom put down the Volm data pad he'd been looking at. Sighed. Leaned back against the canvas wall of the tent, felt it give against his weight.

“I can't,” he said. “I've tried. I told you, I'm a coward and I-”

“You can,” Dingaan insisted. “Talk to her, and to your alien... friend. And then go do your stupid plan.” A pause. “And after, if we're both still alive, if you want to talk to me then, I'll be around.”

Tom tried to back away further, but he couldn't. He had backed himself into a corner. Knowing exactly what he was doing every step of the way.

“You're right,” Tom said, and didn't say anything else. He wasn't going to talk his way out of this. Wasn't going to try and soften reality with a pile of words.

There was a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Dingaan said. “I do know this is hard. And it isn't all your fault.”

 _Gee, thanks_ , Tom wanted to say, but didn't.

He knew he couldn't fix things, but he also knew he at least needed to be honest even just briefly. Anne deserved it, after all the pain she'd gone through. Dingaan deserved it, for putting up with him. Cochise and his soft eyes and gentle words deserved better than Tom, but the universe wasn't fair.

And Tom himself deserved honesty, too.

He swallowed.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Anytime,” said Dingaan. “And. Thanks for listening. When we were underground. I kind of unloaded on you.”

Dingaan had shared his past, his pain, with Tom. Tom had to be honest like that. Had to try and do better. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, hoping he sounded sincere.

After Dingaan left, Tom wanted to stay in the tent for a minute or two, let himself wallow in the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But if he started procrastinating he'd never stop. He took some deep breaths, and walked out into the night.

 

 


End file.
